Ti Amo, Idiota
by nerdyfanchick
Summary: Spain and Romano have this tradition. Every year, leading up to Spain's birthday, Romano gives him 12 paper flowers with letters on the back, that end up spelling out a secret message. This year, the message is a bit different. ¡Feliz cumpleaños España!


_Basically, someone on tumblr had the idea that Romano will give Spain paper flowers to create a secret message, and I have an obsession with paper roses._

_Enjoy._

* * *

On February 1st, Spain woke up to loud Italian pop music. After looking at the calendar, he jumped out of bed and began searching his room for a paper flower.

It was a tradition that had started with Romano giving Spain a single paper daisy on his birthday (_"It's just something dumb that one of my brother's annoying friends taught me. Stop fucking acting like I gave you an actual present or something, bastard!"_) and escalated into a flower every day leading up to Spain's birthday, each with a short note on it. Eventually he found it, a yellow paper rose, on top of his shampoo bottle. Smiling, he carefully unfolded it. _Spagna,_ it read, _If you wake up after 9, then breakfast is ready. Get the fuck downstairs._

Spain looked at the clock to make sure that it was after 9 (it was almost 10, actually), before holding the note to his chest and reveling in the familiarity of the tradition. Suddenly remembering the other part of it, he flipped it over to read the single, blocky letter on the back.

"An 'I'," he mused to himself, "I wonder what the message could be."

* * *

On February 2nd, after being unable to find the second rose in his room, Spain snuck up behind Romano as he drank his morning coffee and read the newspaper.

"I swear to god, tomato bastard, if you try to hug me, I will knee you in the dick."

Spain pouted, but took the seat across from Romano's, "But Lovi, how did you know? I was being really quiet!"

Romano rolled the newspaper up in tandem with the rolling of his eyes. "Because, idiota, I could fucking feel your obnoxious happiness." He paused, lightly swatting at Spain's head before continuing, "And since I know you want to ask, the stupid flower is in the blue coffe mug, the one that you forced me to put my handprint on when I was little."

Spain excitedly jumped up and ran over to the cabinet, quickly taking out the mug and the blue rose within. "Aw, Lovi, they match!"

"No fucking duh," Romano grumbled into his coffee.

"_'Why the fuck do you still have this? This was literally the dumbest thing you had me make, and you made me make a lot of dumb things,'_" Spain read, "But Lovi! The stuff we made together was really cute!"

Romano rolled his eyes as he placed his mug in the sink, "You think everything is cute. Just flip it over already."

Spain did just that, seeing yet blocky 'A'. "Huh? Are there any words that have I and A together?"

"No, idiot," Romano smirked, "But it'd be no fun if I gave you the letters in order."

* * *

On February 3rd, Spain went shopping. Romano wanyed stuffed peppers for dinner, and they lacked several of the needed ingredients. As he pursed their favorite market place, Spain heard a voice calling out to him.

"Señor Carriedo! Señor!"

Spain, being the social nation that he was, tried to get to know all of the families that lived near him, so he recognized the feminine voice as belonging to Adriana Cardona, the daughter of his favorite tailor.

"Ah, hola Drina!" He waved, waiting for her to get closer, "How are you?"

"It's Adriana, Señor. I'm almost eighteen, you know, and I haven't been called 'Drina' in years. Oh! But I have something for you, from your boyfriend."

She began to rummage through her purse as Spain cocked his head in confusion. "My boyfriend?"

"Si," she stopped her search to nod, "The cute one with the curl, blushy, always flirts when you two go into town?"

Spain's eyes widened in suprise, before he began to chuckle awkwardly, "Lovi and I aren't dating."

"Sure you aren't. Don't worry, Señor Carriedo, my parents and I are muy bien acogidas. There it is!" She pulled a pink rose out of her bag and handed it to Spain. "He gave it to me a week ago and told me to give it to you today, and I didn't even know if you'd be here, but, here you are!"

_If you forget the lemon or the ginger, I'm never letting you cook again._

"What is it, Señor? A love letter? A poem? A-"

"It's a note reminding me to get ginger and lemon for dinner," Spain smiled foldly at the note and flipped it over, "And the letter D."

Adriana cooed, "I hope I can find someone like your 'Lovi' one day, Señor Carriedo."

"Ha ha, we're still not dating."

"You keep telling yourself that."

* * *

On February 4th, 5th, and 6th, Spain found flowers inside of his favorite cereal (peach), underneath the largest tomato plant in the greenhouse (green), and inside of his jacket pocket (lavender), respectively. He found the letters A, O, and T. He still had no idea what the message was. On February 7th, Spain woke up ridiculously early, snapped out of his dream by a feeling of overwhelming dread. He got downstairs just in time to see Romano attempting to leave.

"Lovi, where are you going?"

Romano jumped, obviously not expecting Spain to be up, before spinning around. "Back to Italy. My boss actually wants to see me, for some reason, so I have to go meet with him. I'll be back by tomorrow. Probably."

"Oh. Can I come with you?"

"What? Why?" Romano flushed, looking at Spain incredulously.

Spain thought for a moment, determined to answer the question in a way that would convince Romano to let him come. _Because I'll be lonely_ was out, since Romano would just tell him to suck it up; he'd take _the house is too quiet when you're gone_ as an insult; _I'd miss you_ would definitely embarass him too much.

"Because... oh! Because I haven't seen Feli in a while, you know? And if you're going over then its the perfect opportunity, si?" _Good job, España, totally nailed that._

Romano began scowling again, "No. I'm going for business, not fucking around and harassing Veniciano," he huffed, "I'm leaving now. Ciao bastardo."

And, later, as he sat at the kitchen table, eating an omelet and reading the goodbye from the rose (yellow with red tips, a T on the back), Spain had no idea what he'd done wrong.

* * *

On February 8th, Prussia and France kidnapped Spain for a day of partying, claiming that they hadn't seen him in forever (even though the trio had just hung out a couple of weeks ago, not that Spain was complaining).

"And besides," Prussia had said, "You have to enjoy your freedom while your lieb is away." And then France agreed, and they both had burst out laughing when Spain said that he didn't know what they were talikng about.

On February 9th, Spain woke up, in his own bed, surprisingly, with the worst headache ever. After running to his bathroom and empting the contents of his stomach, the first thing he saw was a florescent pink poster thing on his mirror, telling him to _look to your right, and don't rip it when you open it up, idiot._ Being the type to listen to random signs (and wanting an excuse to look away from the sign because _ow_ it was bright), Spain looked over and picked up a (thankfully pale and not painful to look at) orange rose, unfolding it as carefully as possible woth his sleep and hangover heavy fingers.

_You almost fucking ruined the plan, and you better be glad that I was able to change the roses enough to make up for the missed day. Also, there's asprin and a glass of water on your bedside table, and I'm making churros and hot choclate for breakfast. And since I know your small brain is too scrambled to check, there's an O on this one._

After thanking God for Romano and taking the pain reliever, Spain made his way downstairs to see France and Prussia, both completely drenched, sitting at his table.

"Que? What are you two doing here? And why are you wet?"

Romano answered the first question for them, "You three passed out at a party in the pipe bastard's territory, and he told me that if I didn't get you, then he'd tie you up and send you to Russia. You should start wroting my number on your arm when you go out with these two, by the way; Netherlands was about to give up on trying to find someone who would take all three of you."

"And your cher poured cold water on us. How can you be dating someone so mean, Antoine?"

"We're not dating though..."

"Shut up Frenchy, or I'll burn your churros."

* * *

On February 10th and 11th, the roses were white and coral, with the the letters M and I. On February 12th, Spain woke up to breakfast in bed, an omelet with lots of peppers and tomatoes, and to one of Romano's rare smiles.

"Buon giorno e tanti auguri, bastardo."

Spain tried to resist, he really did, but Romano was still wearing an apron from cooking (the one that Beligum had made, with the cats, at that) and he had flour on his face and he just looked _so cute_.

"Ah, Lovi, you look sooooooo cute! Muy, muy, muy lindo!"

"Don't just say things like that you idiot!"

After Spain had finished eating, came the long awaited tradition of the presenting of the final flower and the assembling of the secret message. The final rose was a bright red, and only had the letter I on the back. Romano then unceremoniously dumped all of the unfolded flowers onto the table.

"Your hint is that it's in Italian."

After thirty minutes, all Spain had been able to form was "idiota". There was another one thing that he recognized, but... no, it couldn't be that... could it?

"Oh my god, are you not done yet? Let me do it," Lovino took the flowers out of Spain's hands reordering them into a familiar phrase. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Lovino's voice was casual, but his face was bright red as Spain registered the words before him.

Spain lept up and nearly tackled Romano in a hug, "Lovi, mi tomatino, mi tesoro! Te quiero también!"

"Damn it, you're really fucking heavy! Get off!"

* * *

_I don't think you understand how happy I am that I finished in time, even if the end is noticeably less quality than the beginning._

_Now to go cry over writing the Valentine's fic._


End file.
